


I Know

by Emmasinthebooknow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookstore AU, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmasinthebooknow/pseuds/Emmasinthebooknow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Swan bookstore AU! Killian owns a bookstore, Emma is a regular customer. Fluffy fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know

She is sometimes startled by how well she knows him.

She knows he has a tattoo of a compass on his arm, though it's almost always hidden from view by his leather jacket. She knows he can pick locks almost as well as she can. She knows he has the choosiest taste in clothing, but the most nonjudgemental taste ever in books. She knows he feels restless if he spends too long without taking a boat out into the bay. She knows that - ridiculous, lovely nerd - whenever he gets a new shipment of a book he's interested in reading, he sniffs the books. She even knows what brand of eyeliner he uses.

When did this happen?

(She always pretends like she doesn't know this much. Like she hasn't been coming to the bookstore for him; he just happens to be there.)

Today, it's raining. The display window of The Treasure Chest bookstore glows with warm light. When Emma opens the door, she lifts up on the knob, so the door doesn't creak and announce her entrance. She likes to see him for a moment, before he sees her.

It's warm inside, and she is surrounded on all sides by books. It's the sort of store that doesn't think much of leaving a lot of wide open space. There are books crammed everywhere, piles ready to topple and shelves ready to cave in. It has the cobbled-together look of the cozy library of an eccentric relative. It smells cozy, of books and the coffee shop next door. The store dog, a rescue terrier mix named Lieutentant Snuffles, ambles up and bumps against her leg. Emma drops a few cheerios down to him. (She keeps them in her purse. And no, they definitely are not there specifically for Killian's dog.)

And there is Killian. He's in a corner, surrounded by boxes. He's lifting a book out of a large box and - yes - sniffing it.

(She never thought she'd have such mushy feelings about a someone _sniffing a book._ )

"Hey. What's it smell like?" she says.

He turns, and his face lights up in a grin. "Swan!" He holds the book to his nose again, contemplative. "Paper, glue, swordfights, made-up languages, at least one dragon, and possibly a map at the end of the book."

"Yum," Emma says, because he knows it's not her kind of book.

"Yum indeed!" he replies without sarcasm, because he is a nerd, and because this is exactly his type of book. "How can I help you today?"

"Today," she says, "I was hoping you could help me find a dinosaur bone. Do you have any in stock?"

(This is their running joke. She comes in asking for anything but books: "I need a vacuum cleaner." "I need organic cheese." And he does the same: "Today we have some lovely swords and weaponry." "Are you interested in test-driving a car?")

(He started it, somewhere around the time that she began obviously coming in far more than any customer comes into a bookstore. She appreciates that he doesn't actually mention that - just jokes around in a way that could easily mean everything or nothing, depending on what she chooses.)

"Indeed! Small, medium, or large?"

Emma taps her chin, considering. "Large."

His grin turns mischievous. "Bold choice, Swan," he says, instantly in full-on innuendo mode. 

Emma rolls her eyes. "How about books? Any of those?"

"I've been saving them up for you!" He gestures at a shelf that is nearing collapse. "Any book in particular?"

"I'm looking for a birthday present for Mary Margaret." 

There's a pause. And then it occurs to her, a beat too late, that she should add some qualifier. Because even though she has told him plenty about Mary Margaret, he can't remember the literary tastes of every customer's friends, and Emma probably just made this awkward. "My roommate. She likes-"

"Anything with romance, or royals, or both." 

Emma stops cold. She said that to him, yes, but she said it months ago and he's quoting her _word for word._

And then, he blushes. Captain Innuendo is actually blushing.

Not just a little blush either, but full-faced and bright. He scratches behind his ear, and slides around a pile of boxes, and moves at a fast clip through the fiction section. She can't see his face, but even the back of his neck is pink.

And it gives her an odd feeling, looking at that pink stripe of skin as he fiddles busily with books, muttering author's names aloud to himself. She wants to tell him it's okay that he remembered that. Somehow. Of course, she can't just say that, but....

"Here's one she'll like. Anything for you today?" And when he hands the book to her, he's moving so hesitantly, like it's an object made of glass, that she blurts out,

"Could you find me a copy of that book you said was great comfort reading? The Jules Verne?"

She can feel her face flaming, because he'll know, surely, that he told her this just once, and it was _months_ ago. And he does. She watches, for that one second, as his eyes soften, and his lips curl up sweetly at the edges. Accepting her offering.

And then he says, "Oh, certainly. But if it's comfort you seek, Swan, I have plenty of alternative ideas."

(Cue suggestive eyebrow raise.)

She rolls her eyes at him. And then she secretly breathes a sigh of relief. He gets her a copy of the book. He flirts some more. And they move on, as if they already discussed it, to the mystery section of the store. (Emma's favorite.)

But in the mystery section, Emma picks up a new addition to a series she likes and studies it, and he says,

"Nope. Not that one. You hate books that add too many directionless plot twists just to make the readers chase their tails."

Emma's mouth goes dry. He's quoting her again, word for word. Except this time, he doesn't blush or look away. He stares right into her eyes, his breathing a little shallow. It suddenly occurs to Emma how close he is standing.

She swallows. She has the oddest temptation to respond in kind. She doesn't know why - it's something she normally would avoid at all costs. But looking at him, standing there, quoting her back to her - he's offering her a choice. She can pretend she didn't notice it. Or, she can let him know she did.

She looks at this man with the blue eyes who smells like books and the ocean and says,

"And _you_ said you don't mind plot twists like that, if they're interesting enough."

She holds her chin up high, sort of glaring at him like, ha! I can reveal how much I know about you too! And it occurs to her a second too late that this is a ridiculous stance to take, but already a playful spark has flared in his eyes, and he's saying,

"You secretly hate Agatha Christie."

"You secretly hate Peter Pan," she shoots back.

"You reread Nancy Drew when you're sad."

"And when you're sad, you buy copies of books you already own, just to have the pretty versions."

(Lieutenant Snuffles is turning his head rapidly back and forth as he watches them, like this is a ping-pong match.)

"You dog-ear the pages of books!"

"And you take off the dust covers when you lend books to people, so they don't mess them up."

And then he doesn't answer for a beat too long. He tilts his head in an interested sort of way, watching her, like he's listening for something.

"You like cinnamon on your hot chocolate."

She frowns. This isn't one she told him. But she can't bring herself to ask how. Luckily, he has the answer ready. 

"The cafe next door. I saw you there. Before we met."

"Oh," she says, understanding. Then she realizes she hadn't understood, and - _oh._

Carefully, she steps just a tiny inch closer - just enough that he'll notice - and says, "I like that cafe."

"Me too," he says, just as carefully.

The rain is starting to let up, and has turned into a happy pinging on the roof and windows. The wind has changed, and the warming smells of sugar and coffee are wafting from the cafe next door. Lieutenant Snuffles has somehow climbed up onto a display table, and is leaning forward, hanging onto every word of their exchange.

"I was thinking of going there after I buy these books," Emma says.

"I usually take my lunch break right about now," he says, like it's just another casual piece of conversation.

She grins and heads towards the cash register, Lieutenant Snuffles trotting at her heels, and says over her shoulder to Killian, "I know you do."


End file.
